Amaya and the Nighttime Intruder
by Anonymous Imani
Summary: Amaya gets a visit from an unexpected visitor with a strange request. Mature.
1. Chapter 1

As I distinctly remember, it was the stillness of the room that woke me. I was roused from drowsiness directly into a state of wariness quite jarringly by two factors: My fan was off, and I _felt _someone there. Somehow, my body knew what I didn't. The hair on the back of my neck raised, my eyes dilated, struggling to take in my of my surroundings- I was looking at my pillow- and I felt my breathing spike. They stopped.

They must've been listening, must've heard it was well. That was when I knew, I knew that this wasn't something abstract, yet it wasn't familiar either. An intruder. Murderer? Rapist? The thoughts- possibilities- suddenly seemed all too real. I didn't know what to do.

So I lay there, pretending to sleep while the presence watched silently.

Then a sinister chuckle broke the silence, rolling across the room like a stealthy fog. "Aren't you the clever one, Amaya?" came the snide baritone of a man's voice. I clenched my eyes shut, hoping this was a nightmare. Praying it was a dream. "Sit up, Amaya. Take a look. I know you're _dying_ to." He was mocking me, putting emphasis on _that word._

I do sit up, hurling the first insult that comes to mind. "You're sick, you know that?" I spit venomously, my heart pounding in my ears at the same time. I'd sat up too fast. I felt faint. The image of a dark-clad figure, hooded, just under six feet, and holding a knife that seemed to be the brightest thing in the room swayed nauseatingly across my vision. I couldn't help it; I gasped. "Well that hurts, Amaya. You don't even know me. At least... not yet, you don't."

Taking a step closer, now standing at the edge of my bed, he knelt down in front of me. "I knew you weren't a screamer. You're much too smart for that, aren't you Amaya?"

I was not. In fact, I found that my voice had abandoned me seconds after my initial insult. I'd been trying unsuccessfully to scream for the past two minutes. My throat was incredibly dry.

"Now listen to me," he said, playing with the knife, twirling it, as if to send a message. "I'm going to lay down some rules. One: do as I say, and you live. Two: don't do as I say, and I kill your family. And then you." He paused, knife to his chin, a parody of the classic thinking pose. "I think that about covers it. Nod if you understand."

I nodded, my neck creaking audibly.

"Good. Now, be quiet. Don't make a sound, and don't make any sudden movements." His tone changed from condescending, soothing, to rough. "You try to escape, and I cut that pretty little face of yours. Got it?"

I nodded again, my heart had yet to slow, my palms began to sweat. Any moment now, my life would flash before my eyes. "What do you want from me? Who are you?" I managed to ask after we'd sat there in a silence for a moment. My voice trembled, rose a few octaves. "What did I ever do to you?"

"One of those questions I can't answer, sweetheart. You know, seeing as how you'll probably report me and all." Somehow, in the back of my mind, I noted his use of the future tense. He didn't plan on killing me. Relief rushed through my bloodstream like a strong drug. "As for the other two... Well, you haven't done anything to me, sweetheart, but tease me. I've been watching you, you know. This isn't some spur of the moment thing. And Amaya, you..." he bent down to whisper in my ear. I stayed as still as possible. "Are such..." His breath tickled the side of my face, and my ear. I resisted the urge to shudder. "A little tease."

"But I didn't do anythin-"

"Hush," he said, returning to a violent tone as he grabbed my chin harshly. "I'm speaking." He released his grip on my chin. I would probably have a bruise there later. And I doubted that would be the only one. "As for your other question, sweetheart. I'll tell you what I want from you..." and he went on to describe in graphic detail all of the sick things he wanted to do to me- and me to him. Things that I hadn't even heard of, let alone experienced. "And then, after you've done that," he continued, some minutes later, "You'll most likely be tired. You'll deserve a little break, too. So a respite will be in order. But then-"

I groaned aloud, just wanting him to _stop._ I felt like everything I'd eaten in the past five years was ready to come back up on me. "Please," I pleaded. "Don't-"

A hard hand clamped over my mouth. It was gloved. Damn, he had thought this through.

"Make that sound again," my intruder commanded urgently. "And then beg once more."

I squinted at him, not sure what he was talking about at first. Then the realization slapped me in the face: He wanted me to make 'sex sounds.' He was getting excited.

Fear struck me all over again. What if I didn't do it right and he became angry with me? I gulped down the sand that seemed to fill my throat, and croaked out what I could. "Oh," I said. It sounded like I was in pain. "Oh please..." I trailed off, allowing him to fill in his name and hoping he wouldn't notice.

"Blaine," he supplied, slightly breathlessly.

Victory soared in heart, lending me a little courage to do what I had to in order to survive the night. "Oh Blaine, you're so strong and..." What was the ultimate compliment you could give a man? "And hung like a horse." I winced inwardly at myself. "A bull, even! Blaine please, please..."

His breathing had noticeably changed by then, breaths coming shallow and fast. Blaine scooted closer to me on his knees so that we were eye level with one another. He took my face in his hands and underneath the hood, past the ski mask, steely gray eyes glinted back at me. "Please what, Amaya? What do you want me to do?"

I wanted him to leave. I wanted to forget this whole thing ever even happened and go back to sleep, maybe. But most of all, I wanted this guy, whoever he might be, dead. I truly did. However, I said none of these things because I knew, _I just knew, _that this was some kind of test. And if I didn't say what he wanted to hear, he would be very upset. And go psycho and kill everybody. That part was kind of important. I took a shuddering breath to calm myself, ready to say, to do anything to placate the man before me.

"I want you," I began, my voice low, knowing that whatever words I had, they would result in torture, "to do anything- everything that you want to me."

I swear I could feel his smile, or maybe hear it in his voice, and I avoided looking him in the eyes. "Really? You would let me do that?" He was testing again, mocking lightly.

I nodded once more, for what felt like the hundreth time that night already.

"Good girl, Amaya," Blaine said. It was like everything that came out of his mouth was to patronize, to mentally scar me. But he was done with words, I supposed, because he lifted his ski mask to just under his nose and took hold of my face, drawing it to his. Our lips mashed together bruisingly, and he wasted no time in devouring my mouth, inside and out. I screamed against his lips, but he just shoved his tongue into my mouth, probing. He tasted like pumpkin and cinnamon, surprisingly enough. Yet, I pushed him away- more out of instinct than anything else, really.

When we separated, we were both breathing heavily. Me from fighting him off, and him from being turned on, I supposed. He caught his breath before I did. "You're a fiesty little one, aren't you, sweetheart?" The way he phrased it, I didn't think he expected an answer. He continued on without even pausing, "Yes, you are. I like my women fiery."

With those words, he launched himself at me. It was a flurry of limbs, and I'm sure I scratched him, yelped a bit, but somehow we ended up with me sitting atop him, legs on either sides of his body and his hands on my hips. I think he did this on purpose. "Time to show me what you can do, sweetheart. How far you're willing to go to save your life... and that of your familia as well."

I felt like I was on the verge of a heart attack. Bile had to be gulped back down my throat. My lips parted in an unspoken plea... And then I felt my resolve wash over me. "What do you want?" I asked bitterly.

Blaine reclined lazily hands tucked comfortably behind his head. His command was just one word. "Undress."

And so I did, as quickly and shamelessly as I could. But I couldn't erase the feeling of his eyes dragging over my body in the dark. "You're gorgeous," he said softly. Then, without warning, he flipped us so that I lay underneath him. "Just relax," he murmured as his lips found the most private places of my body. They slid down my neck, skidded over my collarbone, ravaged my breasts- and that was when I felt the first tears of the night prick my eyes. I tried to force them back, knowing he would be furious if he saw them, but I just couldn't. I felt like every time he touched me, it unravelled a piece of me, and I was quickly being pulled apart. But Blaine's cold lips continued to move, sliding over my stomach and leaving cold trails of saliva where they went until, all too quickly, he reached the apex of my thighs. I'd never been the religious type, but in that moment, I prayed so fervently to whatever god might be listening at the moment that I thought my heart would burst. But nothing happened, and Blaine continued his assault. He had to pry my clenched thighs apart, and then shoved his head between them, reaching up to keep a hold on my wrists. "Relax," he hissed.

And I did. Not to please him exactly, but to make this easier on me. I saw no way out of the situation- alive that is- besides to give him what he wanted and keep quiet. And I _hated _feeling that way, hated not being able to do anything to help myself... But what else could I do? So I forced myself to release the tension from my muscles, went limp, tried not to think about what Blaine was doing _down there_, and sighed. I think Blaine felt the fight leave my body because he lifted up his head, looking slightly disappointed, I swear he did. "Where's all of your steam, Amaya? Your spiciness, your _bravery? _Abandoned you, has it?" He tutted beneath his breath.

"Well if it's no fun for you anymore then leave."

Blaine just laughed. "I've waited too long for this. The only thing that could get me to leave is death itself."

"I could arrange that."

He just chuckled again and lowered his head between my legs. I spared a glance down at him. The hood of his sweater had slipped off, leaving only the ski mask. He didn't have long hair, that much I could see in the dark- no, the mask had no noticeable lumps. His sweater and pants were dark. I couldn't see much else besides that. _Nothing to identify him with,_ a rational part of my brain informed me. Nothing in his voice, no scar, no defects. I was screwed both figuratively and soon-to-be literally, which didn't alarm me as much as it should have at that point. I figured I was detaching myself from my body and the situation. I'd read a story about a woman not even remembering that she'd been raped, after all, a soreness and a pregnancy being the only proof. I would be sore, because even though Blaine wasn't particularly rough, I was a virgin. I grumbled internally at my misfortune, though it was indifferently, and hoped I could at least get some pleasure out of having my cherry forcibly popped. I quietly sighed, feeling Blaine's warm breath at my most sensitive parts. What was he even doing down there? I didn't feel much besides the occasional nudge or- _oh God!_

This insane pleasure rocketed up my spine, my body was set on fire, my leg jerked, and Blaine just chuckled against me. "That's the reaction I wanted, sweetheart. Now how about instead of saying 'god' you call my name, huh? Can you do that?"

I didn't even know I'd said that out loud. But by then I knew what to do. I nodded.

"Good girl," he crooned, and then went back to attacking my privates. And I made a fool out of myself. It was one thing to be submissive to your attacker, but it was an entirely different matter to be turned on by the things he did to you. It was shameful, but I did it. I breathed his name as he took me to foreign heights of pleasure just with his mouth, bringing his head closer instead of pushing it away. And when I thought I would die from the intense, burning pleasure, something inside of me burst, and this black fuzz closed in on my vision.

The next thing I knew, Blaine was laying next to me, his pants intermingled with my own heavy breathing. He leaned into my ear and whispered in a low, husky voice, "You're welcome."

"No," I return, though I was on the verge of saying thanking him. "_You_ are welcome... for this great experience. You've fulfilled your pathetic little fantasy. I said your name, _whatever. _You can leave, now."

Blaine propped himself up on his elbow, and I could swear he was staring at me in disbelief, but his voice was hard when he spoke. "No, I'm not done yet. I came here to _fuck_ you in all three holes, and that's exactly what I intend to do."

I cringed at his words, especially _that one_. And I was tired of doing that. I wanted out. "Look, is there anything you want me to do that will make you go away without doing _that_ to me? Anything at all?"

It was when Blaine didn't answer that I knew he was actually considering it. After a long pause, he spoke. "I want you to dominate me. And be creative about it."

"What?"

It seemed that Blaine was done with words as he just rolled onto his back and looked over at me. I sat up. I could do this. All I had to do was direct all of my anger toward Blaine. I could do that in my sleep. "Alright," I began. "Mask off."

"The mask is off limits," Blaine said without hesitation.

But I knew the way around that one. "Mask. Off. I'm not going to say it again. Do you _want_ to be punished?"

I heard his smile. "Maybe I do."

Good. I wasted no time in jumping on top of Blaine, ripping his ski mask off, and then I stopped. I'd never seen this boy before. I thought he would be familiar, I thought I knew his voice from somewhere, but... nothing. The moonlight illuminated his features well enough, and they weren't recognizable in the least. I paused. "Who _are_ you?"

"Nuh uh uh." Blaine shook a finger at me. "That's classified information. You may continue."

I was still thrown off by his face- which really wasn't all that bad, either- but went on in a daze. "Take off your sweater and your shirt."

He did so quickly and eagerly.

"Now your pants- slowly." Blaine's hands went to his zipper, making a noise that seemed to echo in my mind. He slid them down his narrow hips and then I had to rise on my head so he could slip them all the way down. I pulled them off of his ankles for him. The moon seemed to fall in just the right place: I could see his hard erection. The sight of it, pushing at his boxers, made my stomach drop, and not in anticipation. I couldn't do this yet. I though quickly, trying to come up with something that would distract Blaine. My answer was obvious: foreplay. I leaned down and kissed him, tongue and all, and he gladly responded. I made a few moaning, gasping noises, some of which were not faked, and then I broke the kiss. "Touch me," I commanded. I was hoping he would know what that meant, because I sure didn't. I saw it in a movie once.

Immediately, Blaine's hands were on my hips, his mouth on one breast and his pushed his hardness into me. I made a squeak sort of sound and let Blaine do as he pleased. Once he was good and panting, I made him stop. "Okay, now touch yourself."

Now he hesitated, but before he could say anything, I barked at him. "Do it!"

His hands snaked into his drawers and his hand began pumping slowly. "Say my name."

"Amaya," he breathed.

"That's not good enough!" I was enjoying this a little bit too much. "I want you to _scream _it."

Almost immediately, Blaine was, and I had to cut him off with a kiss because he was so loud. I pulled his hands out of his pants and put them in between my legs, and he automatically slid his fingers into me. I gasped into our kiss and pushed against Blaine's hand. I had never been touched like that before, not even by myself. If that was what sex was going to feel like, then maybe I didn't mind Blaine raping me so much... of course, then that wouldn't make it rape, but still. I ceased to be Blaine's sergeant and began to plead with him again. "Mm, harder... faster. I said _faster_. Oh yes, just like that."

Blaine brought me off for a second time that night, and then I was starting to feel bad about not returning the favor.

"Remove your boxers. Slowly. Give me a show."

I think Blaine managed to blush a little bit at that. I guess I'd turned out dirtier than he expected. But I didn't care because I was looking on in anticipation. My gaze travelled down his happy trail, to the hairiness of his privates, which I didn't expect to be so... ugly, I guess. And big. There was no way that thing was fitting inside of me. I froze. Aw man, aw man, what was I going to do? I glanced up from Blaine's... thing to his eyes, which were amused behind the lust, and then back down again. "Uh, do you want me to... go down on you?" That was how he had put it earlier, I recalled. I looked to him and prayed he denied my offer. But his eyes were shut and his head tilted back. "I want you to touch me," he whispered. I held in my sigh of relief; now I had something to work with. "Beg me."

"Please. Please, Amaya, my sweet, do this for me. You are a lady of mercy, please spare me a bit of your kindess." By then I had figured I was fulfiling some very specific fantasy of Blaine's but I didn't think it was an archaic one.

"Why should I, you unworthy peasant?" I asked. Hopefully that was what he was going for. His eyes flew open. They were dark with lust. "Please, I beg of you! I would do anything-"

"Shut up, you sniveling rat!" I hissed venomously in his ear. And then I grabbed his... penis? Too clinical. Dick made me feel even dirtier. Maybe thinking about it as a cock... I grabbed it and wrapped my hands around, sliding them down his... cock once. He literally shuddered, a breathy sigh caught in his throat. And that was how I learned how to give a man a handy manny. I gauged his reactions and altered my behavior accordingly. It was surprisingly easy and gave me this sense of power. And when he... orgasmed with my name on his lips, I thought we were done. But as he caught his breath, he gazed at me, still sitting naked between his legs, and _it_ began to get hard again. I was thoroughly upset. "You want _more?_" I asked increduously. For some reason, this made Blaine give a deep-throated chuckle.

"Did you think that would be enough for me? I've done that hundreds of times while thinking about you. Now that you're here, in the raw, I'm going to have you up until morning." And just like that, the roles were reversed again. Blaine grasped my head and pulled my up into his lap. "I really enjoyed that, sweetheart." Oh God, he was in the after-glow I'd heard about. "But now I want to see those pretty lips of yours put to better use," he told me, his hand still on the sides of my face and his eyes boring into mine. "Wrapped around me."

My heart sank into my stomach. "But I've never-"

"Even better. Get down. Tease me a little."

I did as he requested. I was unsure of how to start until he tangled his hand in my hair and guided my head to his quite hairy inner thigh. I kissed it, and his lips parted in silent pleasure. That, then. I kissed and licked and sucked around his general area until putting my lips closer couldn't be avoided anymore- he guided my mouth to his... stuff. I spared it a glance before opening my mouth and closing it around the tip. It wasn't so bad. I couldn've done without the slimey texture, though. Blaine made this really highly, breathy sound and then pulled my mouth further onto him, until I gagged. "Come on, sweetheart, just a little bit further," he coaxed, trying to push me further. But I couldn't breath, and I was trying so hard not to throw up because I would surely choke on my own vomit. He pushed all the way to the back of my throat, and that was when I gasped, warm acidic liwuid rising up my throat. Blaine quickly pulled out of my mouth and wiped it for me with this weird, unnerving gentleness. Tears stung my eyes once more as he attended to me and cooed at me. I didn't want to supset him, but dammit that _hurt. _Blaine kissed me straight on the lips. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I knew I was going to deep, but it felt so good. Are you okay?"

I nodded and wiped the tears that dared escape my eyes away swiftly. "I'm fine." A lie. "Do you want to try again?" Please no.

"Yeah, I would love to!" he answered eagerly. He sat back, and I bent down once more, lips tickling his inner thighs and then I took it into my mouth again. Now that I knew what it felt like, I was more prepared, and stop when I needed to. I still wasn't getting about half of his... thing so I couldn't understand how he was enjoying it. "It's okay, it feels great," he said, and I wasn't sure whether or not he knew what I was thinking about. I pulled and pushed my mouth back and forth over his... manly part, earning a barrage of groans, moans, and "Oh sweethearts". And then he started twitching, pulling my head closer, and I wasn't sure why, but just as I was about to stop, an excess of that slimey wet mess flowed into my mouth. I pulled back immediately, but before I could say anything, spit it out, even, Blaine clamped a hand over it. "Swallow it, please," he said fervently.

I didn't want to. In fact, I was totally repulsed by the entire idea. But I sort of didn't have a choice what with his hand covering my mouth, and so I pushed past the mental block and swallowed the mostly salty, actually kind of sweet, and all slimey yuck right down. Blaine watched it slide down my throat and then released his hand. "How did it taste?" he inquired almost anxiously.

I figured he didn't want to be told it was nasty as all get out. "Delicious," I said, not meeting his eyes. But I heard the smile in his voice. "Good. I can't wait to try that again." Impossible. But sure enough, as I looked down at his... friend, it was getting ready to go again. Please no more.

"I-I'm tired... honey. Aren't you?"

He considered this, once again surprising me. "You are tired, aren't you? I guess I should let you get a little rest, huh?"

I nodded, trying not to look too eager. "Yeah, so should you."

He was convinced, then. "Yeah, okay. I'll wake you up in a couple hours."

Not for the first time, my heart dropped. He wasn't going to leave? "But what about-"

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll be here the entire time." Blaine wrapped his arm around me as we settled into the bed together. I felt oddly satisfied, horny, and terrified all at the same time, and I didn't like it. I figured if I could get Blaine to fall asleep with me, though, I could tie him up while he was sleeping and escape; that thought brought me comfort. But Blaine never slept. His breathing never changed. He just kept petting me everywhere- quite distractingly- until I pretended to fall asleep, and even then, he spread kisses all over my neck and collarbone lightly. It was unnerving, really, the level of tenderness that he treated me with, especially once he knew I was cooperating. The guy truly thought of me as his willingly and equally ridiculously horny lover. That was how I knew he was off his rocker. He had to be. But one question rose up through the abyss of my mind, begging to be answered. Why me? I wasn't particularly beautiful; my skin was flawed, my features didn't quite match each other, and I had pinchable fat on my belly. So why would he choose to stalk me out of all of the pretty girls at my school. Assuming that was where he first targeted me. My heart raced as I tried to think of all the times I'd ever smiled at a stranger or walked somewhere by myself. Any one of those times could have put me in his path. I wasn't safe anywhere if I didn't know how he continuously watched me. I could never tell anybody about this night, because he could be _anywhere_. I resisted the urge to sob and shudder. What if he came back? I would become his own personal sex slave, with no more freedom than a prostitute gets from her pimp. How could I get married or even go out on a date with a boy if _he _plagued my bed at night? I would never have a normal life now, because of this night. I cried silently, my back curled into Blaine's chest as he continued to pet my hair, wrapping each individual curl around his finger, and for the few hours I had, I plotted my escape from him.


	2. Chapter 2

Somehow, I manage to fall asleep for a few hours. Maybe it's because of my new Plan, or the heat of Blaine's body up against mine. All I know is, one moment, I'm curled up on my side, pretending not to cry, and the next, there's a whisper in my ear as rough hands glide across my arm. "_Amayaaaa_."

It's sad how I already recognize that voice. The cold malice mixed with a sort of pleading. I turn toward Blaine, his hard-on pressing against my hip as I do. The friction between my thighs is still sticky. I open my mouth to answer- contemptuously, now that I've grown a pair- but his mouth covers mine before I get a word out. I remind myself of The Plan, that I need Blaine to believe I'm with him, and then I force myself to sigh into the kiss as I return it. Blaine pulls away shortly. "Did you have a good nap?" he inquires sweetly, gently into my ear. It almost hurts, the level of tenderness with which he treats me. It would make it so much easier to paint him the evil villain, so much easier to fight him. But whenever I want to do this, he humanizes himeslf.

"Yes, I slept well..." My voice trails off until I realize, in the silence that follows, how the morning-after conversation is supposed to go. "How could I not? You?"

I feel Blaine smile against my ear and tighten his arms around me. He seems to become even more firm against my hip, if that's even possible. "Oh, I never was easily satisfied," he tells me as if I don't already know, and his voice is so low and scratchy that I feel a little heat pool between my legs. I take in a shuddering breath, and know that it's time to put The Plan into action. You'd think that after spending all night with him, I'd be a slightly less terrified. No, he still makes my heart beat a little bit faster, and not in the good way. I turn to face Blaine, and those brilliant storm eyes freeze me. In the dawning light, the room seems to be made of muted colors instead of just shadows. I can see his adoring expression. And I hate it. "Touch me, please," I say, but I'm not even sure whether it's a demand or a request. Blaine doesn't mind either way. He kisses me, hard, presses me into the bed and angles his body over mine. I'm reminded that we're both very naked, my comforter providing the only barrier between us. He must have covered me up a bit while I slept. The little fucker. We continue to kiss, Blaine's tongue sliding in and out now- once in a while doing this sucking action that is insane- and his hands struggle to find my body amidst all of the blankets. His solution is to rip it away, leaving me cold, bare, exposed. But then he covers me with his body, murmuring those saccharine expressions into my ear again. _Amaya I love you so much. You're so beautiful. So perfect. God, I want you forever._ And expressing appreciation through groaning is all I can do to keep up with him at times. We take a breathing break when he inhales the scent of my neck and proceeds to suck on it, rolling my nipple between his fingers simultaneously. My hips jerk toward his automatically, and Blaine whispers my name, encouragement. "Amaya, _yessss_. _Just _like that, sweetheart. I want it."

For once, I think I know what 'it' Blaine's talking about. I spread my legs and use the heels of my feet to drag him closer. We press together and I grind against him. The feel of his hard... cock- all of the heat, the hardness, the hairiness, and the sweet, sweet pleasure- is almost overwhelming. Blaine freezes, and so do I. He makes the sound of a dying animal in the back of his throat and then drops my legs. I hadn't realized he'd began clutching at my thighs when I wrapped my legs around him. I grind into him again. He gasps and sputters, gravely serious. "A-A-Amaya, you keep doing that and I'm not going to last very- Oh, God!" Blaine's lips are parted in pleasure with my last thrust, and he tries to move back but for my heels locked around him. He grins. "Alright, then. Your way."

Blaine shifts us so that we're halfway sitting up, with me on top, and pulls us close together. Our foreheads touch, and our breathing intermingles. "Do it," he invites me.

I do. Locking my arms around his neck, I straddle his lap and push our pelvises together. Just with that action, Blaine groans. It must be hard for him, to sit there and not grab my hips and impale me right there. Because he could easily, uh, penetrate at this angle. Instead, he allows me to press us close, and to grind this sweet spot against the flat of his shaft until the pleasure of it rocks my body and I bite his lip. Hard. He does this mix of a chuckle and a groan, and I'm sure this act doesn't do nearly as much for him as it does for me. But of course Blaine had an ulterior motive. Now the apex of my thighs is all wet. Not moist. _Wet_.

Without resting at all, Blaine lays me down on the bed, spreads my legs wide, and lowers himself between them. I look down, and he seems to have grown so big that it's inhuman. "Amaya, look at me," he says. "Look me in the eye." I do.

And in the most steady, stable voice I've ever heard him speak in, he says: "I am going to make love to you now, Amaya."

And he makes me gaze into his grey eyes while he pushes inside of me. And while he stretches past my virginity. And until he is buried fully inside of me. It hurts like hell, but Blaine is the one who whimpers like a man under torture while he holds himself still there. His head lowers and his lips consume me, temporarily relieving the pain. Then he begins to move again. It hurts so bad, tears me up inside that I tense my legs hard enough to trap Blaine there. "Amaya, you have to let me move," he says. And his tone is so understanding, so tender that I let him. Of course there's also The Plan. Can't forget that.

Blaine takes this deep breath, as if sex- I can't even bring myself to call it rape anymore- with me is an Olympic event and now he's _really _about to start. He pulls out at this excruciatingly slow rate, almost all the way, and then he slides it back inside, releasing that gasp he took. He repeats this process again. And then again, each time, staring me down. And on the fifth push, it really doesn't hurt anymore. I wait for the twinge of pain as Blaine fills me up. It doesn't come. Instead there's just this feeling of being pleasantly whole. And because Blaine's been pinning me to the bed with just his eyes, he notices. Once more, there's the little whimper in the back of his throat that I've come to associate with his extreme pleasure. He places his hands on the bed, above my shoulders, planting them there firmly, careful not to lean all of his weight on me. Then he leans down and kisses me. And the next time he slides out, he doesn't ease back in; he _shoves_. That's when pleasure rockets through my body, causing me to gasp and tremble. "Are you all right?" Blaine breathes.

I can only nod furiously in reply as he plunges back into my body. Because the truth is, I hadn't expected this to be so... mindblowing. That I wouldn't be able to form a coherent sentence. That I couldn't even remember what The Plan _was_. There is just me and Blaine, bringing me all of this pleasure, and still his stare burns into me. Soon, it isn't one-sided. Soon, I'm pushing my hips closer to Blaine, opening my legs wider for him, squeezing these new-found muscles around his hard shaft, and all of it makes him quite giddy, I believe. He breaks eye contact only to kiss me and mumble how much he loves me against my lips, never slowing. This goes a long way towards the almost unbearable pleasure building somewhere around my stomach and between my legs, and my body feels like it's fluttering as it flies. I drag my teeth over Blaine's lips in a wordless plea for more. He actually has the nerve to slow the friction between us. "Tell me what you want," he commands.

"I... I want..." I don't know how to articulate it. I begin to get frustrated, and Blaine chuckles because he knows why.

"What is it?"

I want to smack the smirk off of his face. But instead, "I want-need- to get _there_, Blaine. Please!" I grip at his sweat-glazed body. My nails slide across slick skin and he groans deeply.

"Okay," he breathes, gasps, really. "Tell me you love me- and don't stop."

It takes me many attempts to actually get the full sentence out as Blaine slams harder and harder into me, hitting this one spot that is euphoric. I just know that there's my wet pussy clenching tight around him as he delves deep into me. And his grunts blow across my face as his balls slam into my crotch. And this heat is about to kill me. Oh God, it's so good. But when I do manage it- the sentence, that is- Blaine growls, literally _growls_, and _bites _me. That little bit of pain sent me flying over a ledge I had no idea was there. Everything in my body spasms, convulses, constricts, and I am sent somewhere else entirely. The most extreme pleasure rivets my body thoroughly. When I come back down from Heaven, I realize that I never executed The Plan, firstly. And secondly, Blaine, is kissing me, holding me, and crying. _Crying_. He alternates between telling me: _I love you so much_, and _Thank you so much_. It's then that I realize maybe an eternity with Blaine wouldn't be so bad. I kiss him and tell him I love him.


End file.
